MODERN
LOVE
10 Books by 10 Rising Stars
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Blurb
When love calls, it’s rarely easy
but always memorable, and definitely worth turning the pages. Recapture the
thrill, the delicious anticipation of finding your happily ever after in these
10 unforgettable, hot stories by some of today’s brightest names:
Her Knight in Black Leather – J.M. Stewart
Destination Wedding – Robyn Neeley
Drawn to Jonah – Jennifer DeCuir
On the Fly – Katie Kenyhercz
Wildly – Debra Kayn
Falling for You – Heather Thurmeier
Beginning Again – Peggy Bird
Spiraling – Rachel Cross
Save My Soul – Elley Arden
Sweet Gone South – Alicia Hunter Pace
Excerpts
Wildly by Debra Kayn
Grayson
moved forward, making her retreat, walking with that lazy long stride that had
the ability to hypnotize her. His gaze was so intent, her breasts hardened and
she forgot why she was wasting her time arguing. His hair lay over his forehead
in a sexy I-don’t-give-a-damn way that tempted her to reach up and sweep it
back. But she didn’t. She couldn’t get that close.
The
back of her thighs hit against the car, her breath barely coming through the
constant throb of her body. “What are you doing?”
“I’m
going to take what’s mine.” He lowered his head, hovering inches from her
mouth. “I don’t care if I get it here, in the middle of Main Street, or if you
come over to my house and let me have you there. But I’ll be damned if we’re
gonna pussy foot around this subject any longer.”
“But
… ”
He
shook his head. “I’m done fighting, Shauna. I want you. You hear me? I want you
as much as you want me. For as long as you want me.”
Oh
my God. She forgot to breathe. She’d waited forever to hear him admit his
feelings toward her, to confess it wasn’t her overactive imagination dreaming
up a future with him. She sucked in air, filling her lungs. Everyone had
thought her crush was one sided, but she knew better.
About Debra
Top-selling romance author Debra Kayn lives with her family
in the beautiful coastal mountains of Oregon where she enjoys riding
motorcycles, gardening, playing tennis, and fishing.
On the Fly by Katie Kenyhercz
With a sigh, she glided over to where he waited. For good
measure, she stuck out her arms and feigned a wobble. Can
you ice skate? That
was something of an understatement. Her father had gotten her a pair of ice
skates as soon as she could walk. Carter didn't need to know that.
“You gonna make it?”
“I think so.” She came to a stop against the goal post and turned around to
mimic his stance.
“Tell you what, I'll give you a head start.”
She just smiled.
“Down and back, okay? Ready, set, go!”
She took off like a shot, arms pumping, knees high, just digging into the ice
with the sides of her blades. Behind her, shocked laughter echoed. Then it was
replaced by the sound of his own skates. At the other goal, she skidded
sideways in an awkward hockey stop and tried to regain momentum, heading back
for the other end, but Carter had the experience, and he turned in two seconds.
He passed her and pivoted to skate backward, adding insult to injury. She
squinted at him and surged forward. Amusement played openly across his sharp
features until he stopped and she didn't.
Jacey hadn't really considered the consequences of hurling herself at him. It
seemed like a good idea at the time. And before she could reverse it, she
collided against him with a solid thump. They spun in a circle, their legs
tangled, and Carter fell backward. She had no choice but to follow.
About
Katie
Katie married the military man of her dreams, so home is wherever the Air Force sends them. She loves hockey and writes about hockey love. Her fictional team is the Las Vegas Sinners, and her real-world team is the Pittsburgh Penguins. She likes strong, capable heroines who bring out the vulnerability in their tough guys.
Her Knight in Black Leather by
JM Stewart
A
beat of silence passed, and Michael let out a heavy exhalation behind her, a
sound of acceptance, defeat, dejection. He stepped up behind her, his warm,
solid body pressing against her back, pinning her where she stood. Reaching
around her, he opened a cabinet door, revealing a shelf full of glasses and
mugs. “Because I was afraid.”
His
words and the truth behind them settled into her core. She knew that feeling.
Too well. “Of what?”
“What
did you need from me last night, Cat?” His hot breath teased her neck, the
sensitive skin below her earlobe, and images invaded her mind. Of his mouth
latching on there, leaving his mark. The possessive look in his eyes when he
plunged inside her body, claimed her as his. How simultaneously wrong and right
it felt to be claimed that way. They were strangers, yet deep down, she couldn’t
deny she gave him a piece of herself last night.
“I
wanted the fantasy. You were a little wild, a little dangerous. A Harley-riding
bad boy in black leather with a wicked gleam in your eye who challenged
anyone to try to judge you.”
A
faint chuckle sounded behind her, so infectious one corner of her mouth curled
in response.
“You
were everything I wanted to be and exactly the type of man I never go for.”
About JM
J.M. writes what she likes to call sweet and spicy contemporary romance. She’s a stay-at-home mom who lives in Seattle Washington, with her husband, two boys, and their two very spoiled puppies. She’s been devouring romances for as long as she can remember.
Spiraling by
Rachel Cross
“Am
I being played here?”
Shane asked.
“I'm
not going to try to take naked photos, if that's what you're asking,” Amy said.
He
ignored the dig. “Why did you agree to go out with me?”
“You're
hot,” she said, playing with a strand of hair, blinking up at him with her best
princess smile.
“I
think you're here with me for the same reason I'm with you.”
“Attraction?”
“Publicity,”
he said.
She
stilled. “Is that why you asked me out?”
“My
agent encouraged it. He's in the throes of panic over my image,” he stated.
“He's
the one who set up the . . .” she glanced around furtively, “lessons.”
“I
need the lessons, obviously, but he's trying to kill two birds with one stone
here.” Shane said.
So
he was using her the same way she was using him. “Why me?”
“You
have to ask? Amelia Astor, princess, New England blue-blood. You're the ideal
woman to rehab my image.”
It
was the way he said it. As though he would never in a million years be seen
with her otherwise.
“And
here you are just in time to resuscitate my contract
with Enchanted Ice.” Amy raised her glass. “Cheers,” she said, without the
slightest bit of pique reflected in her tone.
Goaded,
she stretched out a hand and laid it, palm down on his rock hard, jean clad thigh,
one finger tracing a pattern on the soft cotton. She leaned in and whispered,
“I'm not incorruptible.”
He
tilted his head back, and she watched his throat work as he finished his drink
in one swallow and scooted closer. “No?”
“It
doesn't have to be fiction, but I don't do fidelity,” he
said as his long fingers tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear and
he shot her a half-smile that sent a throb of excitement through her traitorous
body.
About Rachel
Fueled by black jelly-beans and Pinot noir, Rachel Cross writes contemporary romance with brave heroines and sexy heroes. She lives in coastal California, with her surfer/pilot husband and two daughters. Her past includes stints as a firefighter, paramedic, clinical manager and Weekly World News tabloid model.
Beginning Again by Peggy
Bird
“What the hell are we doing?” Liz Fairchild
didn’t bother hiding her irritation from her ex-husband. “When I agreed to have
lunch with you, I expected food and a martini, not a tour of Northwest
Portland.”
“Bombay Sapphire is good gin but pouring it
over a few ice cubes doesn’t make it a martini,” Mason Fairchild said with a
grin, “even if you do throw in a couple olives. Although I’ve always been
pretty sure you know that.”
“Po-ta-to, po-tah-to.” Dismissing his comment
with a wave of her hand, she persisted. “Answer the question—where are we
going?”
“You’ll see in a minute. We’re just about
there.” After maneuvering his Mercedes around a streetcar stopped to pick up
passengers, he pulled into a small parking lot behind what looked like a row of
townhomes, nosed the car into a parking space and cut the engine. “This is it.”
“And what would IT be?”
“A live/work space a client of mine has on the
market for a very attractive price.”
“If I knew what a live/work space was, that
might impress me. But since I don’t, I’m back to asking why I’m not sitting at
your favorite restaurant with a martini in front of me.”
“Patience has never been your virtue, has it?”
She pursed her mouth and cocked her head. “You
of all people should know just how patient and understanding…”
“I apologize. You’re right.” He unfastened his
seat belt and leaned over to do the same for her. “Just extend your
understanding for another fifteen minutes and I promise there’ll be gin in your
very near future.”
About Peggy
Peggy Bird is a writer and glass artist who lives and works in Vancouver, Washington across the Columbia River from Portland, Oregon where most of her stories are set and where her three daughters, four grandchildren and two granddogs live.
Falling for You by Heather Thurmeier
“Stay
still, Corona,” she pleaded, patting the horse on the shoulder. She swung her
leg over the horse, determined to successfully complete one dismount before the
challenge ended.
Her
arms shook as she lowered herself carefully from the saddle, finally giving up
their fight part way down. Gravity took her the last few feet and she hit the
ground with both feet, stumbling backward a step before bumping into something
solid.
“How,
Cassidy? How do you always end up in my arms?” Evan’s voice rumbled in her ear,
his warm breath on her earlobe making her girly bits tingle.
She
found her footing and turned in his arms. She could see the dust and dirt
clinging to his five o’clock shadow, his brow beaded with sweat. He desperately
needed a shower and there was nothing she could have fantasized about more than
being in one with him. Instead, she pushed herself back from him and swallowed
her urge to climb him like a jungle gym.
“What
can I say? I guess I just keep falling for you,” she said, before her brain
caught up to her mouth and she was able to censor herself.
About Heather
Heather Thurmeier is a lover of strawberry margaritas, a hater of spiders, and a reality TV junkie. Her passion is contemporary romance—writing stories filled with laugh out loud moments, uber-hunky heroes, feisty heroines, and always a happily ever after.
Drawn to Jonah by Jennifer DeCuir
Jonah
was standing at the sink with his back to Quinn. Or rather, with his backside
to Quinn. She paused for a moment, enjoying the view. Until she realized that
Jonah was looking at her reflection in the kitchen window. If she weren’t so
mortified, having been caught checking out the handyman’s butt, she might have
noticed the fact that he seemed to enjoy the attention.
“Um,” she gestured at the gurgling
coffeemaker.
“Yeah,
I’d like some. Thanks.” Jonah grinned.
He
peeked in on Lily, who was curled up on the couch, wrapped in Nanny’s crazy
colored afghan. They sat down at the table, the silence awkward. Jonah looked
agitated.
“There’s
something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he blurted.
There
it was. Her instincts were spot on. She nodded.
“I’ve
been trying to come up with the right way to ask this.” Jonah drummed his
fingers on the tabletop, his expression sheepish.
He
was going to ask her out! She had to tell him no. It wouldn’t work. But he was
so good looking, such a loving father. He made her feel things she had no
business feeling. Oh, what the hell—she’d go out with him. Just this once.
“Okay,
here’s the deal.” He breathed deep and leaned in close. “I was hoping that you
would...teach me to read.”
Wow,
it must have been the paint fumes coming off his speckled T-shirt, because
Quinn could have sworn that Jonah just asked her to teach him to read.
About Jennifer
Jennifer DeCuir is a busy mom still trying to figure out how to balance carpooling, volunteering and homework with writing time. Coffee helps … a lot.
Save My Soul by Elley
Arden
Jordon
didn’t stop at the end of the cart. He came around and grabbed her by the hips.
“We’re done with this conversation. I’m not going to let you push me away
because of your misguided notions and over analysis.”
Her
mouth opened at his absurd insults. Before she could say a word, his fingers
rested on her chin and he closed her jaw.
“Maggie,
transference is bull shit. Freud was a flake. You shrinks like to wield power
over weak-minded patients. I’m not weak, and I’m not your patient.” He slid his
thumb across her bottom lip. “I do…feel exactly the way I said I do, but I
won’t say it again until I’m damn sure you’re going to say it back. Until then,
keep your shrink wrap away from my head. There’s enough going on in there
without you digging around.”
Despite
the hypnotic sensation of his thumb stroking her lip, she couldn’t keep quiet
anymore. “I find you offensive.”
“No
you don’t.”
Jordon
leaned his face closer, and she swallowed. Her tongue reflexively brushed over
her lip, tasting the tip of his thumb. He stepped into her, and she swallowed
again, knowing his mouth would be covering hers in the middle of a busy
supermarket. But the minute his arm wound around her waist, she didn’t care
where they were. She wanted him to take what he wanted and leave her begging
for more.
About Elley
Elley Arden is a proud Pennsylvania girl who drinks wine like it’s water (a slight exaggeration), prefers a night at the ballpark to a night on the town, and believes almond English toffee is the key to happiness.
Destination Wedding by Robyn
Neeley
“Kate, I was expecting you.”
He chuckled and pointed to her side. “Do you need some help with that?”
Kate looked down in horror.
She had forgotten to zip up her dress! Her lacy blue bra and matching thong
strap were visible. She yanked up the side zipper. “You have something of
mine,” she said icily.
“Your dress from last night.
Here it is.” He pulled back the closet door and handed it to her. “Looks like
they were able to get the tomato juice stain out. Good as new.”
“Thank you.” She clutched the
dress and turned to leave. On impulse, she spun back around. “You know. You’re
an ass.”
He smiled down at her. His
smile was just as warm as it had been last night. “I’ve been called worse.
Listen, Kate, we need to talk. Let me get dressed real quick. Why don’t you
come in and have some champagne.”
Kate peered in. Next to him
was a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket and a glass plate of
chocolate covered strawberries.
“I sent those to you and Lauren. There’s nothing to say. You, Drew
Cannon, are my client. I don’t know what last night was about, but we will not
be clinging champagne flutes unless it’s at your wedding!”
“Kate, you’ve got this all
wrong. This isn’t what you think.”
“You commandeering my dress
and posing as my boyfriend isn’t what happened?”
“Well, yes, but come in. I’ll
explain everything. I think you’ll find it quite amusing.”
“There is nothing funny about
my client being a lying, cheating schmuck.” She turned and headed back to her
room.
The door slammed behind her.
“Kate, please stop. If you
would just listen—”
She put her hand up to block
his words. “Don’t follow me. I am only going to pretend to be nice to you
because you are my client, and your wedding is going to catapult me to partner.
I need this wedding to go off without a hitch.”
He swore under his breath.
“You don’t have to get nasty.”
She pushed her keycard in and unlocked her door.
“No, it’s not you. I locked
myself out.”
“Not my problem.” Kate entered
her room and slammed the door.
“Kate. Come on,” he pleaded
from the hallway. “At least let me borrow your phone to call housekeeping. You
can’t leave me out here in a towel.”
“Consider it payback!” she
yelled and peered out of the peephole. He had turned around. His beautifully
sculpted backside was exactly as she had imagined. No tattoos, no scars. Pure
perfection. Her nails would have a heyday…
Frustrated, she turned around
and leaned against the door. So he has to go to the lobby in a towel to fetch a
new key. He’d probably get some suggestive looks from women anxious to find out
what was underneath it. That’s not payback. Her lips turned up in a devilish
smirk. “But this is.” She gripped the door handle and flung it open.
“Thank you, Kate.” He started
to enter. “I knew you wouldn’t leave me out here. I’ll only be a minute.”
“Not so fast.” She rested one
hand on his chest and yanked off his towel with the other, leaving him naked.
“I’ll just have this dry cleaned for you.”
She slammed the door and
rolled up the towel, shoving it in the wastepaper basket. Now that was payback.
About Robyn
Robyn Neeley is an East Coaster who loves to explore new places; watches way more reality TV than she cares to admit; can’t live without Dunkin Donuts coffee and has never met a cookie she didn’t like. If you have a must read romance suggestion or a fabulous cookie recipe, she wants to know. Visit her at robynneeley.com.
